Monday:
I keep hearing a clock *tick *tick *tick away. A clock that apparently does not exist. I've looked all over this room, but to no avail. Yet I can feel it. Somewhere, I'm certain, there is a collection of machine-crafted gears, interlocking in a perfect, symbiotic relationship, forcing the smallest of delicate springs to *tick *tick *tick in recursive recoiling. This mysterious spring, this bane of my existence, must be. It must! I can feel it. I can feel a current ripple the air and excite the hair cells of my cochlea as surely as I feel my own increasingly rapid heart beat. But when I search for the source, I am left discontent. I look around at the others in the lounge, but to what end? Even if they were privy to this unceasing pulse, what reaction could I hope for to slake my curiosity?
"Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! --no, no! They heard! --they suspected! --they knew! --they were making a mockery of my horror!-"
Tuesday:
I and my ilk have passed a threshold. It is no longer within our collective capacity to measure time by hours, minutes, seconds. We cease to exist in a linear progression marked off so succinctly by Greenwich. We have crossed the threshold of known time itself and entered into the Ticktockman's fear-based realm of "Negotiable Delay". We poor, hunched postgrads huddle together, motivated by other-worldly senses and supernatural desires, to negotiate the precise moment when Assessment #3 is officially and unequivocally too late.
Wednesday:
London received snowfall today. Nothing stuck, but it snowed all the same. I was not aware of this. I was aware of the hail falling on me. Hail that, unlike London snow, stuck and stuck and stuck. The one time I found myself wondering along unknown footpaths - in the dark no less - with no relief in sight, it also hailed for the first time this season. In my own way, though, I was relieved. The concept of hail this Texan possesses involves bruising, broken windows, and some element of head trauma. This English "hail" was more along the lines of the slush that comes out of the hand-cranked Snoopy snow cone machines of the 1980s.
Was I upset at this unexpected experience? Not in the least :)
Por qué, you ask? For the simple reason that I was on my way to an equally unexpected dinner party in one of the student housing blocks. That, and also that I have never been packed in ice before. I was packed in ice once I reached the student housing entrance. Now I know what a lobster in the fish market feels like.
Dinner was spectacular. As happens when fabulous people congregate, a simple, generous gesture turned into a full-throttle international fare: quesadillas, guacamole, salsa, refried beans, mexican candy, english sodas, grilled salmon, pizza, thai salad, crisps, peppered steak, cilantro (coriander), honeydew w/ prosciutto, ending in compote topped cheese cake and chia tea straight from India. Espresso was also on the menu, but we all eventually ran out of steam (and tummy space). Mexico, US, Sweden, Thailand, China, Malaysia, and Taiwan were represented at the table.
Thursday:
Today brought the promise of a moment, a single, near instantaneous moment that held the potential to produce anything from a life-altering failure to an unparalleled success. George Loewenstein (Carnegie Mellon University) was the guest speaker at the DR@W Forum. For those readers who don't know, Georgie and I have a past. A twisted, dark, yet sadly brief past.
A couple years ago I applied to his program to earn my PhD while working along side one of the most prolific (if not brilliant) minds of our time in the field of decision making science. Wait, it gets even nerdier. I discovered Loewenstein's work after immersing myself for months in decision science research. My immersion was not for a class. No one expected anything from me. I just simply and quite severely became enthralled with a section of psychology that crossed over into economic & business theory. I loved the effort of a acknowledging the human factor in economic behaviours. I tasted the fruit and it was sweet.
A few days before Loewenstein's talk to our group, I joked that I was going to jump up at the beginning of the Q&A and ask, "Why wasn't I good enough for you 2 years ago!?" I said this as an obvious joke. However, when this afternoon rolled around, nearly everyone I mentioned my joke to showed up to Loewenstein's talk. They had front-row seats to the show. Oh dear....
Loewenstein gave a longer-than-expected talk to a larger-than-expected group. When all was said and done, the students urged and prompted me toward Loewenstein so I could have a heart-to-heart, as it were, with him. At the last second I decided, "What the fuck, let's do this."
I shared my excitement with his work, my previous attempts to join his program, and my present status in Warwick's department. He was naturally taken aback (very interesting), but then committed the same sin as all the rest. He tried to help me understand my rejection from his university's department. Loewenstein suggested that 2nd round applicants have 4.0 GPAs, at least one 800 score on their GRE, stellar letters of recommendation, and it doesn't hurt to have something published or, at the least, in the making. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I had all the boxes ticked. So here, for your reading pleasure, are Loewenstein's pearls of wisdom I was able to glean from our conversation:
1) As of today, the University of Warwick has the best all encompassing behavioural program in the world. Which means, I GOT INTO THE BEST BEHAVIOURAL PROGRAM IN THE WORLD (right now). OK!
2) Professors now, including Loewenstein himself, would not have qualified as graduates for the programs they are now employed in. My interpretation: I'm a better qualified graduate student now than Loewenstein was at my stage 20-odd years ago. OK!
3) Loewenstein can be relied upon to tell a candidate what the probabilities are for acceptance. If you don't cut the mustard, he suggests "casting a broader net."
Before parting, I decided to abstain from asking for a picture with him. Call me crazy, but you don't [practically] insult someone then ask for a photo op.
Friday:
I wonder if these streets will haunt my dreams the way places of my childhood do? So many strange alleyways.
I keep hearing a clock *tick *tick *tick away. A clock that apparently does not exist. I've looked all over this room, but to no avail. Yet I can feel it. Somewhere, I'm certain, there is a collection of machine-crafted gears, interlocking in a perfect, symbiotic relationship, forcing the smallest of delicate springs to *tick *tick *tick in recursive recoiling. This mysterious spring, this bane of my existence, must be. It must! I can feel it. I can feel a current ripple the air and excite the hair cells of my cochlea as surely as I feel my own increasingly rapid heart beat. But when I search for the source, I am left discontent. I look around at the others in the lounge, but to what end? Even if they were privy to this unceasing pulse, what reaction could I hope for to slake my curiosity?
"Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! --no, no! They heard! --they suspected! --they knew! --they were making a mockery of my horror!-"
Tuesday:
I and my ilk have passed a threshold. It is no longer within our collective capacity to measure time by hours, minutes, seconds. We cease to exist in a linear progression marked off so succinctly by Greenwich. We have crossed the threshold of known time itself and entered into the Ticktockman's fear-based realm of "Negotiable Delay". We poor, hunched postgrads huddle together, motivated by other-worldly senses and supernatural desires, to negotiate the precise moment when Assessment #3 is officially and unequivocally too late.
Wednesday:
London received snowfall today. Nothing stuck, but it snowed all the same. I was not aware of this. I was aware of the hail falling on me. Hail that, unlike London snow, stuck and stuck and stuck. The one time I found myself wondering along unknown footpaths - in the dark no less - with no relief in sight, it also hailed for the first time this season. In my own way, though, I was relieved. The concept of hail this Texan possesses involves bruising, broken windows, and some element of head trauma. This English "hail" was more along the lines of the slush that comes out of the hand-cranked Snoopy snow cone machines of the 1980s.
Was I upset at this unexpected experience? Not in the least :)
Por qué, you ask? For the simple reason that I was on my way to an equally unexpected dinner party in one of the student housing blocks. That, and also that I have never been packed in ice before. I was packed in ice once I reached the student housing entrance. Now I know what a lobster in the fish market feels like.
Dinner was spectacular. As happens when fabulous people congregate, a simple, generous gesture turned into a full-throttle international fare: quesadillas, guacamole, salsa, refried beans, mexican candy, english sodas, grilled salmon, pizza, thai salad, crisps, peppered steak, cilantro (coriander), honeydew w/ prosciutto, ending in compote topped cheese cake and chia tea straight from India. Espresso was also on the menu, but we all eventually ran out of steam (and tummy space). Mexico, US, Sweden, Thailand, China, Malaysia, and Taiwan were represented at the table.
Thursday:
Today brought the promise of a moment, a single, near instantaneous moment that held the potential to produce anything from a life-altering failure to an unparalleled success. George Loewenstein (Carnegie Mellon University) was the guest speaker at the DR@W Forum. For those readers who don't know, Georgie and I have a past. A twisted, dark, yet sadly brief past.
A couple years ago I applied to his program to earn my PhD while working along side one of the most prolific (if not brilliant) minds of our time in the field of decision making science. Wait, it gets even nerdier. I discovered Loewenstein's work after immersing myself for months in decision science research. My immersion was not for a class. No one expected anything from me. I just simply and quite severely became enthralled with a section of psychology that crossed over into economic & business theory. I loved the effort of a acknowledging the human factor in economic behaviours. I tasted the fruit and it was sweet.
A few days before Loewenstein's talk to our group, I joked that I was going to jump up at the beginning of the Q&A and ask, "Why wasn't I good enough for you 2 years ago!?" I said this as an obvious joke. However, when this afternoon rolled around, nearly everyone I mentioned my joke to showed up to Loewenstein's talk. They had front-row seats to the show. Oh dear....
Loewenstein gave a longer-than-expected talk to a larger-than-expected group. When all was said and done, the students urged and prompted me toward Loewenstein so I could have a heart-to-heart, as it were, with him. At the last second I decided, "What the fuck, let's do this."
I shared my excitement with his work, my previous attempts to join his program, and my present status in Warwick's department. He was naturally taken aback (very interesting), but then committed the same sin as all the rest. He tried to help me understand my rejection from his university's department. Loewenstein suggested that 2nd round applicants have 4.0 GPAs, at least one 800 score on their GRE, stellar letters of recommendation, and it doesn't hurt to have something published or, at the least, in the making. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I had all the boxes ticked. So here, for your reading pleasure, are Loewenstein's pearls of wisdom I was able to glean from our conversation:
1) As of today, the University of Warwick has the best all encompassing behavioural program in the world. Which means, I GOT INTO THE BEST BEHAVIOURAL PROGRAM IN THE WORLD (right now). OK!
2) Professors now, including Loewenstein himself, would not have qualified as graduates for the programs they are now employed in. My interpretation: I'm a better qualified graduate student now than Loewenstein was at my stage 20-odd years ago. OK!
3) Loewenstein can be relied upon to tell a candidate what the probabilities are for acceptance. If you don't cut the mustard, he suggests "casting a broader net."
Before parting, I decided to abstain from asking for a picture with him. Call me crazy, but you don't [practically] insult someone then ask for a photo op.
Friday:
I wonder if these streets will haunt my dreams the way places of my childhood do? So many strange alleyways.
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